


the boy across the hall, in brief

by wanderNavi



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Other, far fewer pigeons than in reality, nonbinary Robin, obligatory college dumbassery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 07:35:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16383923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderNavi/pseuds/wanderNavi
Summary: Robin is neck-deep in trying to trip Chrom into their bed when they realize that they don’t know what Chrom’s major is.“I’m sure he’s mentioned it before. Maybe when we were introduced to each other. That’s something you say in introductions for lack of anything better to say, right? I must have been distracted with his, I don’t know, face.”





	the boy across the hall, in brief

**Author's Note:**

> At first Miriel was the RA but that's stupid. Gaius is far more the type of person to have free cookies available at midnight for random residents and propose a program going to Little Italy because he wants the school to help subsidize his dinner that night.

It’s not an official floor program, there were no fliers or email notifications, but Gaius knocks on Robin’s door on Thursday, 7pm, regardless and says, “If you come to my room, I can teach you how to pick locks.”

Robin dumps their textbook on the ground right there by the doorway, snags their keys, and follows Gaius down the hall.

“You’re an RA,” Sumia says unnecessarily when they’re all arranged in a circle’s drunken attempt to stay a circle on the ground in front of Gaius’ couch like they’re children ready for story time. The story time of how to be even more mildly criminal at college. Robin puts a giant of a lock in their crossed legs to inspect.

Instantly, all the locks and picks are whisked back into the storage bin, even the ten-pound monster that was in Robin’s hands a second ago. “Are you going to report me?”

“No, we didn’t bring Cordelia,” Donnel says and Robin can die for him.

* * *

Robin is neck-deep in trying to trip Chrom into their bed when they realize that they don’t know what Chrom’s major is.

“You’ve been friends with him for how long now and you still don’t even know that?” Say’ri doesn’t immediately laugh at Robin’s incompetence which is why they regularly reminds her that she’s their favorite classmate via paying for all her coffee and tea. This is a kinder death than if they, in the case that the gods wanted to have a truly jovial day at Robin’s expense, went to Sully to have a small breakdown.

“I’m sure he’s mentioned it before. Maybe when we were introduced to each other. That’s something you say in introductions for lack of anything better to say, right? I must have been distracted with his, I don’t know, face.”

Today’s drink is some fancy combination of fragrant flowers, dried fruit bits, and tea leaves that Robin would mangle their tongue trying to pronounce the name off. Say’ri sips it laced with glares at the black sludge that Robin might call coffee.

“Or his biceps.”

Robin sighs. “They are very nice biceps.”

“It’s been a year now.”

“I know.”

“He lives across the hall from you.”

“I know.”

“ _How do you still not know his major?_ ”

“Because I am a sad, sad fool.” They drink the sludge in a toast to all hopeless idiots in the world. Mostly themself.

* * *

Henry’s roommate arrives before he does and already has drapes and decorations hung up. The roommate in question sits on the bed, surrounded by drifts of paper. Classes don’t start for another week. Is his roommate an overachiever?

“Hey! I’m Henry and I’m guessing you’re my roommate? Robin, right?” Rude not to introduce himself.

Maybe-Robin looks up. “Yeah, that’s me. Nice to meet you Henry.”

Unpacking the suitcases doesn’t take long and far too much time simultaneously. He already lugged these suitcases all through the airports and the jet lag makes Henry want to pass out for bed already. The sun outside is aggressively mid-afternoon. Maybe he can have a nap instead.

Only half the clothing is out and into drawers when Henry gives up and flops onto the narrow bed instead. Robin flips another page in a book heavy enough to kill a man when dropped from a third-floor window. All of Henry’s bird models are on his shelves though, so that’s enough for a day’s work. He tries to make small talk with Robin instead and gets as far as talking about countries of origins when Robin tenses up.

“Sorry, I don’t really talk about Plegia.”

Henry looked at Robin’s purple and gold coat haphazardly draped on the back of their desk chair. Looked at the dark purple covers and bed sheets. The probably rare edition books in the Plegian language on their self and window sill.

“Okay!”

* * *

Through a series of mishaps, Chrom finally moves into his latest dorm room a couple weeks into the fall semester. He doesn’t have high hopes it will be his last. Gaius, the RA, carts him around for obligatory introductions, though a couple of people seem to be missing when no one answers the doors. Gaius just shrugs serenely and says around the lollypop in his mouth, “We’ll lure them out with food eventually. Or you might just never see them. That happens sometimes.” The door across the hall from his is one of the rooms they skip, but Chrom is certain that missed introduction will be easy to rectify. He’s bound to meet whoever lives there soon enough.

Chrom becomes familiar with their voices before seeing their faces. Either laughter keeps drifting out, or heated debates.

He meets Henry first, by virtue of Chrom’s door suddenly knocking open and an unfamiliar white-haired individual diving in, laughing manically. Chrom nurses the knee he slammed into the desk in surprise with curses. There are suddenly bird skulls all over Chrom’s floor.

“Oh, hey, Robin was wrong, there _is_ someone living here. Well, help hide all this for me anyways, thanks!”

Then the boy rolls under Chrom’s bed and stays there among the shoes and luggage cases for an hour despite Chrom’s increasingly frustrated attempts to relocate him.

At first Chrom thinks Robin is several people. Mostly because he only catches glimpses of his neighbor and the hair color keeps changing.

“Naturally? I have white hair. Easy to dye, even if everyone keeps asking me if I bleached my eyebrows as well,” as it turns out. Robin holds out a box of candied dates and captures Chrom with their easy smile. “Want some?”

* * *

“How rich do you reckon Chrom is?” Robin asks Sumia.

“Blue-haired, hot? That’s Chrom?”

“Yeah, very hot, kind of a dork.”

Sumia hums in thought as she trashes Robin’s character on the screen. “Decently I’d say. Doesn’t seems to suffer as much whining about funds as certain parties I know.”

“I knew the day you gained more self-confidence would be the end of me.” Robin wipes an imaginary tear. “I’m so proud. But seriously, Say’ri’s teas are getting more and more expensive.”

“Why are you interested in how rich Chrom is? Doesn’t seem like sugar daddy material.”

Robin chokes. Their character dies a miserable death. “No, no! It’s just – look at that fashion taste. What is it? Only people who are practically royalty can get away with something like that. Why are so few of his clothing symmetric?”

“But those arms,” Sumia sighs dreamily.

“Gods yeah,” Robin coughs more than speaks.

She looks at them with concern. “Do you need some water?”

“I need a slow death.”

“I’ll get you a bottle.”

* * *

Lon’qu must be in a good mood, because he only mildly tries to cut Robin open with his eyes alone. That good mood isn’t going to stay for long, though in this rare case, Lon’qu pain is Robin’s gain. Robin shakes the box of food they cooked for emphasis.

“Do you bribe everyone you know with food?” Lon’qu asks.

Robin practically pushes the box directly into Lon’qu hands. “Yes, absolutely, I was raised simply and we’re all college students and most of us are broke. I need you to get Olivia for me.”

Ah, there it is. Robin’s coming prime time entertainment. Fort Lon’qu descends into lockdown mode at the mention of her name. Lon’qu fingers squeeze tight around the box of food.

“I can just tell you where she is –”

Robin interrupts, “I’ll need your security card though.”

“I can loan –”

“And lock you of out your dorm? How could I, absolutely not. No, no, lead the way my fearless friend.”

Robin doesn’t grab Lon’qu by the shoulders and try to steer him towards the theater building. One, they like their fingers intact and not reattached with far too many stiches and many hours in the hospital waiting room. Two, Robin needs their hands for their exams coming soon and for typing their papers. Three, Lon’qu is taller than Robin anyways and they’d just look like a wet rag hanging from Lon’qu’s back if they tried.

Thankfully, Lon’qu likes Robin’s food enough to walk to his gallows – the theatre where Olivia rehearses.

“Why do you want to know where Olivia is?”

“Dance lessons.”

Lon’qu stares at Robin. “You, dancing?”

“A very specific type of dancing, I have people to woo.”

“Why do I even know you?”

“You love me, or at the very least, you love my food. Come on, we both don’t have all day.”

* * *

The first semester is almost over when one evening after a session at HEMA, Chrom walks out of the elevator and finds Robin spread-eagle in the narrow hallway, blocking the entrance to both their rooms. Gaius stacks another Oreo on their forehead. They continue sleeping unaware as a girl, Chrom thinks named Sumia, stacks textbooks on various parts of their body as well.

“Finals?” Chrom asks.

“Yeah, kid needs rest.” Robin shifts slightly, and the Oreos vanish.

Chrom sits down on the carpet. “How many finals do they have?”

“Three more,” Probably-Sumia says. “But they also have work and stuff to do for clubs and competitions.”

Chrom adjusts his seat again. The carpet is cheap and scratchy, and he has no idea how Robin is comfortable sleeping on it. “Can they take a break from the clubs?”

“No, they said something about, uh, challenging someone to a duel?”

Normally, he has the luxury of assuming people intend to engage in metaphorical duels, but not with Robin. Once, Chrom zoned out for a few seconds from a conversation and it took the opportunity to veer into a discussion about cults. Specifically, the mechanics of joining cults. Robin developed the combative expression of someone who would prove a point in the most bullheaded and terrible way, such as along the lines of finding a cult, joining a cult, and taking over a cult, just to prove a point Chrom missed. Chrom’s sure Robin can even pull it all off, and when they swung their face his way, before any agreement from his brain, Chrom panicked and blurted out, “Sorry, my mom said no, I gotta go.”

“How about we get them in bed.”

Highly-Likely-Sumia shakes her head. “They don’t have their keys and Henry is. Somewhere.”

Chrom looks at Gaius.

“They also ran out of lock out passes already.”

“Okay, but this floor really isn’t comfortable. They can nap in my room.” Chrom gets up and navigates over limbs and fumbles open the lock on his door. Stahl tips back in his chair and watches Gaius and Definitely-Sumia carry Robin’s unconscious form into the room.

“Did you knock them out?” Stahl asks.

“No-”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Gaius says.

Sumia straightens Robin’s feet and gives the RA a look. “You were there when it happened.”

“And I already pretended to not see that.”

* * *

Robin’s back early from the winter break and shakes in Chrom’s face a box of snacks their mother packed along with seven other food packages. “I come bearing gifts and also thanks for keeping my spring schedule sane.”

“Thanks, and no problem.” Chrom takes the box with a soft smile. “These look good.”

And you look better, Robin doesn’t say. Like a coward. They definitely don’t say, I could eat you all up, or any of the corny stuff Gaius suggested about sugar.

He tucks the box under his arm and asks Robin, “So what are you doing today?”

“Breaking into the maintenance areas of some of the school buildings.”

“Oh, um. Why?”

Robin leans against his doorway, close to Chrom leaning against his door. Borderline in his personal space. Chrom doesn’t show any adverse signs. “I’ve seen some plants on the roofs. And I’ve looked online, there are rooftop gardens on campus and I think a few greenhouses.”

“That sounds fun.”

It’s freezing outside and the heat inside is broken, so it's near equally freezing inside. Their fingers are ready to break off. Robin is also ready to spontaneously combust when they say, “Want to come with me?”

Chrom’s face lights up. With a “Give me a moment,” he ducks into the room and sets the food on his desk and grabs his coat and keys. He pats the pockets for his phone and security card and stomping into his shoes, he exits the room to join Robin in the hallway.

The numbness is not going to help pick any locks, but they’ve been in Gaius’ room practicing enough times to be smooth now. Also, an overwhelming warmth is passing through their chest. It’s a situation.

* * *

There’s snow on the roof and Robin sets down a thermos of hot chocolate on the concrete walkway. Chrom stands near the edge, hands on the half wall, looking out at the city around them. If Robin had any inclination to painting, they’d try to capture this scene. The winter wind tugging at his hair and scarf, the light pink flush brought out by the cold and clambering up staircases, the clear light slipping into the barest beginnings of sunset, the height, the times, the figures.

They silence and turn off the flash on their phone and take a photo. It doesn’t do him justice and Robin is betrayed by the small screen’s inability to capture the whole horizon.

The greenhouse is locked with rows of vegetables inside and past the gravel bordering the walkway, dried gestures of summer plants whistle in the air. In the far corner of the roof, the beehive sits inactive.

“This is amazing.”

Robin glances up from rummaging further in their bag. Chrom’s hand beckons them over. They join him.

“The buildings aren’t as tall at home,” Chrom says. “It’s mostly trees all the way to the mountains in the horizon. It’s amazing what people built, and being this high up, the air just tastes different.”

“Yeah. I like winter,” Robin agrees. “Plegia was always too hot. The air would get so thick. But up on rooftops, in the winter. Everything’s clearer.”

They stand together and Robin tips into Chrom’s warmth. He glances down and Robin glances up through their pink hair. They need a haircut. They ask, “This alright?”

“Yeah.”

“There’s the hot chocolate.”

Chrom hums in agreement. He’s still looking at Robin.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Predictably, Robin ruins the moment when they're forced to ask, “What’s your major?”

**Author's Note:**

> The RAs teaching how to pick locks? Taken from real life. Breaking into a rooftop garden? Half taken from real life. I was supervising children burning flakes of wood in glass beakers.


End file.
